


V X Male-Reader – Vigilante Saviour

by writeyouin



Category: V for Vendetta (2005), V for Vendetta (Comic), V for Vendetta - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Male-Reader, Reader-Insert, Rescue, Romance, mild NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: Request: V rescues a twink-male from the Fingermen and things become a romance. Also please can I have some steamy moments?
Relationships: V/Reader, V/You
Kudos: 25





	V X Male-Reader – Vigilante Saviour

You glanced anxiously at the office clock, noting how it was way past curfew and that you should have been home hours ago. You had never disobeyed the law before, always fearing the government that controlled England. There were stories of people who had been taken away, never to be seen again; being black-bagged was the term for it, and you certainly didn’t want to be black-bagged. The only reason you had even stayed at work so late was because your boss had forced you to stay until the sales reports were finished. He knew that you would have to stay past curfew, he even found it amusing, but who were you to argue? It was better to do as you were told rather than risk losing your job in a country where work was scarce and there was no such thing as income support anymore.

You considered sleeping in the office, as unappealing as it was. With no heating in the middle of winter, and no sofa to even lie down on, it promised to be a very uncomfortable night indeed. You own modest flat popped into your mind. It wasn’t too far from where you worked, and perhaps if you stuck to the back allies, you could make it home without any trouble. Besides, the Fingermen that patrolled the streets weren’t likely to be in the allies, they would probably be on the main roads which held the possibility of more foot traffic.

Although the idea of travelling home past curfew made you nervous, you decided to do so anyway, desperately needing to get away from the soul-sucking office. Putting on your tweed coat and wishing for something darker, you locked up and set out into the chilly December night.

Wind whipped at your face, making your eyes water until you reached the allies which protected you from the weather’s icy wrath. Unfortunately, it did not protect you from the glare of the three Fingermen who had been hiding out there, passing a bottle of cheap whiskey between them as a means to keep warm.

“Well, well, well, what’ve we got ‘ere, eh?” The tallest of the three appraised you, covertly flashing his badge so you definitely knew he was a Fingerman. “Out a little late, ain’t we? Wha’s your excuse for that? Fancied a late-night stroll? Or is you just a rule breaker?”

“I think he’s a rule breaker, ‘Arry. What say you Tom?” The burliest of the lot piped up.

Tom, the smallest of the three just leered at you and licked his lips before taking a swig from the whiskey bottle.

“I-I’m not a rule breaker,” You shivered nervously. “I promise, I was just- Just heading home from work. I had to- to stay late.”

“Did ya now?” Harry cajoled. “Had to stay at work, yeah? You that important? ‘Cos it seems to me, the only ones out working tonight is us, and being out after curfew is a punishable offence. Then again, it don’t look like you’ve ever done this before, ave ya?”

“No,” You answered hurriedly. “No, I’ve never done this before, and I won’t ever again, if I could just please go home tonight.”

“Of course you can, Sir… After we take our pound of flesh that is.”

“W-What?” You paled, stumbling back a step.

“A first-time offence is deservin’ of a punishment in our books, otherwise what’s to stop you doing this again? Don’ worry, I’ll make it quick. Can’t say the same o’ my associates, but I’m sure you understand.”

You wanted to run but your legs seemed to freeze in place. Would the punishment would be worse if you tried running and they caught you? The question held you firmly in place, though it didn’t stop you from begging for mercy as the Fingermen slowly closed in on you.

“No, p-please, don’t. I won’t do it again. Let me go, I’m begging you.”

With a sadistic laugh, Harry grabbed hold of your shirt, forcing you onto your knees, “You ‘ave to be on the floor to beg.”

“Don’t hurt me, please,” You whimpered, growing pale as Harry pulled an extendable baton from his belt.

He hit you hard across the face causing you pain the likes of which you had never suffered before. You fell to the ground, unable to focus, blood filling your mouth, making you feel sick. The sound of crying assaulted your ears and it took a moment to realise that it was you doing it, and worst of all, this was only the beginning of your punishment.

You curled up into the foetal position, waiting for the next hit, but it never came. Instead, a sophisticated voice echoed behind the Fingermen.

“To quote someone far more educated than the three of you men this fine evening, ‘It is hard to imagine a more stupid or more dangerous way of making decisions than by putting those decisions in the hands of people who pay no price for being wrong.’”

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry asked, facing his new opponent. You squinted to see the stranger through the gaps in the Fingermens’ legs, but only caught sight of a cape billowing around a pair of polished boots.

“Me? I am merely a shadow, viewing the vandalism of justice brought on by three of this vile country’s villains. It vexes me to see such a vindictive act against the victim of poor timing, but have no fear, for I shall correct your actions with what will undoubtedly be a valorous act on my part. I shall vaccinate the plague that ails our government, starting with you.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” The burly one asked, looking to his compatriots for support.

“Of course, my vocabulary would appear to be too verbose for you vagabonds, so let me simply state that it is time for you to vanish from this world, indefinitely.”

“Lads, let’s teach this git a lesson about interruptin’ the hands of the law,” Harry growled, reclaiming control of the situation.

The idea of someone dying on your behalf sparked a fire inside you. Although you had no fight-training, you pushed yourself up, grabbing Harry from behind. He elbowed you in the gut, wheeled around and kicked hard at your face. After that, you passed out, leaving V to carry on the fight alone, not that it was much trouble for him.

* * *

“Easy now,” V warned you as you slowly peeled your one working eye open to find him standing above you.

It took you a few minutes to comprehend what was happening. Here was the man that had saved your life, and from the little you could see in your peripheral vision, he had taken you away from the alley. You were laid down on an ornate four-poster bed, surrounded by turquoise drapes, while your rescuer dabbed at your wounds with a cold cloth.

“Where am I?” You breathed uneasily.

“You are in my home, safe, for now.”

“You…saved me. Why? I know I should be thanking you but…Sorry. I mean, thank you for saving me Mr?”

“You may call me V, and I think you’ll find that you were a big part in saving yourself.”

You snorted in disbelief, “I was a joke. Didn’t even last a minute.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short. You had the courage to come to my aid, which is more than I expected. Bravery is not the absence of fear. It is moving forward in spite of that fear.”

Questions burned at your throat, each vying to be asked before the others; you weren’t sure where to begin. Part of you wished to ask if you were allowed to leave, but at the same time you were far too fascinated by V to leave just yet.

“Those Fingermen… What happened to them? Did you uh-”

“I killed them, yes. Three less corrupted souls in the heart of the city of evil. Alas, that brings us to our little dilemma. You see, everything in this city is monitored. You have been watched your entire life, as has everyone else in this infernal place. When the Fingermen didn’t report back, I know that an investigation commenced to find them. Scotland Yard has already found them, no doubt, and once they check the security feeds, they will see you, assisting me.”

“But I don’t even know you,” You argued without any real conviction.

“That won’t matter to them. They’ll kill you by mere association, but not after rigorous torture to try and find my location.”

“Wait… Are you a criminal? Are you wanted for something else?”

“Minor crimes only as of yet, but that will all change soon enough,” V answered ominously. “Back to our conundrum however. If they torture you, you will tell them where I am, and I cannot have that, so I am afraid you will have to remain here.”

You stared at V silently, your mind and heart racing in unison. Stay somewhere you didn’t know with a wanted criminal who you had only just met? It was insane. You had a life to get back to, with people you knew and a job with… With a boss who hated you enough to almost get you killed.

You opened your mouth to protest, but instead found yourself saying, “Okay, I understand.”

“Good,” V said. He dipped the cloth in a basin near the bed, wringing it out and holding it to your face once more, “Now hold still, this may sting a little.”

* * *

You sat in the library of the Shadow Gallery pouring over books as you did most days, seeking knowledge forbidden by the Chancellor. You usually did so for pleasure, but now, you had a specific goal in mind as you found the book of medical conditions you had been searching for.

You scanned the index, looking for the segment on Stockholm Syndrome and reading its definition.

_Stockholm syndrome is a psychological response. It occurs when hostages or abuse victims bond with their captors or abusers. This psychological connection develops over the course of the days, weeks, months, or even years of captivity or abuse._

Closing the book as quickly as you had opened it, you sank onto the floor, with your head in your hands. The description didn’t fit. You remembered hearing about Stockholm Syndrome long ago, before talk of mental illness was forbidden as heresy against ‘ _real_ ’ medical illnesses, but you hadn’t entirely understood what it was, nor had you needed to. Now that you had access to such knowledge, you could say without a doubt that you were not suffering from such a syndrome, and that meant that you had somehow fallen in love with the anarchist, V.

You weren’t exactly a hostage; it was more like you were in an odd sort of witness protection. V had certainly never abused you, physically or mentally. He actually treated you better than anyone had in your entire adult life. He was always a gentleman, teaching you how to cook when you asked, gifting you various contraband that he thought you might like. He didn’t mind that you weren’t strong, or fearless like he was. Instead, he focused on your kindness and your intellect, treating you always as his equal; how were you not supposed to fall in love with that? He even made you realise that sometimes the law was wrong and the only correct course of action was to break the laws.

You had read upon countless heroes who had broken the law to stand up for those who couldn’t. Wangari Maathai, founder of the Green Belt movement and advocate of Women’s Rights. Mohandas Gandhi, the leader of the Quit India movement, who freed his country from Britain’s tyrannical ownership. Martin Luther King Jr, who so famously stated that, ‘ _One has not only a legal, but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws_ ’.

So many people who you had never heard about, all who had been erased from history because they didn’t fit in with the Chancellor’s narrative. It was a crime that V had opened up your eyes to. Every day, he took you further from the world you thought you knew, into the possibility of a new world that could be forged from the ashes of his planned destruction.

You dragged your hands tiredly down your face, ‘ _…And now I’ve fallen in love with him._ ’

You sat quietly in the library, wondering how you could live with yourself if you didn’t tell him, and contrarily, how you would survive if he didn’t feel the same way.

* * *

The sound of clattering metal awoke you from the sofa where you had fallen asleep reading a book. You got up, hastily heading towards the sound. V was on the floor, having knocked over a suit of armour. He was clutching his side, blood coating his glove and dripping onto the Persian rug beneath him.

“Oh my God!” You exclaimed, rushing over to his side. “V, what happened?”

“Argh,” V growled as you hoisted him to his feet, pulling his arm over your shoulder so you could help him walk. “Nothing to worry about. A scuffle with an excellent marksman,” He said through the pain.

You walked V to your own bedroom, where he kept the bulk of the medical supplies.

“I- I don’t know what to do,” You whimpered anxiously, looking at the bullet wound with mounting horror.

“It’s alright, (Y/N). Stay calm and I’ll walk you through it.”

In truth, V could have patched himself up with only minor difficulty, but he was wished to test your mettle and see how you fared under pressure, always believing that you were tougher than you knew.

“Okay, now listen carefully,” V ordered. “I can keep pressure on the wound, but it will need cleaning. You need to start by disinfecting it. Can you do that?”

You didn’t waste time replying as you ran to the cupboard where the disinfectant was kept. After that, it was just a matter of quashing your own fears and following V’s instructions till the wound was closed. After such an intense procedure, you found yourself shaking and anxious, somewhat in shock.

“You did very well,” V commended, resting on the bed.

“Yeah,” You laughed shakily. “I had to do well. I love you.”

V stared silently at you, waiting for the moment you might realise what you had said in your shaken state and take it back.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and then the babbling began. “Wait- Did I just say- Oh my God. V, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- and you’re sat there- the words slipped and- I’m not trying to take them back. I mean, I do _love_ you but- Oh God, I said it again and I- Wait here,” You squeaked, scurrying out of the room and into the weapons hall, far, far away from V.

You crouched down onto the floor, hugging your knees. “Stupid,” You hissed at yourself, feeling like an utter fool. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ ”

You remained alone for the next few days, avoiding V while you cursed yourself, lamenting that you couldn’t run away, as an enemy of the country’s Fingermen.

* * *

On the fifth day of your avoidance, V came to see you, finding you hiding in the art gallery, surrounded by liberated statues and paintings.

“(Y/N),” He greeted demurely, putting you on edge about the probable rejection.

“V!” You swallowed anxiously. “What uh- Is- Is there something you need?”

“Yes. You see, for quite some time now, I had resigned myself to a life of solitude, never wanting anything except the way forward into a brand-new world. I had never considered the thought of companionship, on a platonic or a romantic scale, and then I brought you here to the Shadow Gallery. I awaited the day where you would start to loathe me for taking you away from the life that you knew, but… it never came.”

“It was most interesting,” He mused. “I dared to hope that you might one day admit to craving my friendship, and so I treated you as a guest, hoping that you might find a confidante in me, but that didn’t happen either. It was only in your moment of shock and anguish that you could admit your love for me, and even then, you didn’t retract your statement. So, it comes to pass that I must ask you now, can you really love a masked man, with no hope of a normal relationship, as deigned by that of the world outside the Shadow Gallery?”

V was offering you an out. You knew you should take it and deny your love as nothing more than a moment of madness. Your mouth was completely dry as you answered, “Yes.”

“Is that so? You can really love someone, knowing that they can’t love you back?” V asked, testing you once more.

“Yes.”

“That is the bravest omission one can make. Then, as your love, can I ask of you one more thing? Close your eyes.”

You would have walked to the ends of the Earth for V; closing your eyes was nothing in comparison and so you did as he requested.

“Good, and no matter what is to happen, keep your eyes closed,” V breathed, closing the gap between you.

You felt lips pressing against yours. These were not the metal lips of V’s mask, these lips were scarred and damaged, but real all the same. V’s tongue invaded your mouth, and you elicited a gasp as his hand travelled inside your trousers; V planned to go all the way with you, having finally found someone to love him.


End file.
